Roberts left more than memories

Published: Saturday, October 19, 2013 at 04:00 PM.

Remember the saying that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or a person by your first impression? When it came to Bobby Roberts that couldn’t be less true.

Ralph Collier Roberts Jr., was his given name and he died a week ago today, Sunday, Oct. 13, at the age of 61, in Hattiesburg, Miss., where he was recovering from heart surgery.

My first impression of Roberts was that he had a voice that commanded and that he was genuinely more passionate about helping someone else than he was in being noticed for helping someone else.

I heard that theme again and again in the week following his death, including by various speakers at his funeral service Thursday at First Baptist Church downtown.

Between phone calls from Roberts’ longtime partner Elise Carow and his cousin Kay Churchwell the day after his death, through the funeral and the folks I met there, it was astounding to see how many lives Roberts touched, and how deeply he touched them.

Arthur Cullen spoke at Thursday’s services, pacing nervously beforehand. Cullen has no real fear of public speaking, but he was worried that he wouldn’t do Roberts’ memory justice.

Cullen needn’t have worried, because he didn’t make a speech; he drew from the deep well of memories he had of Roberts and of memories shared by others. We laughed as Cullen shared some of Roberts’ humor, and heads nodded in unison as he talked about how hard Roberts worked to help others shape their futures.

Remember the saying that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or a person by your first impression? When it came to Bobby Roberts that couldn’t be less true.

Ralph Collier Roberts Jr., was his given name and he died a week ago today, Sunday, Oct. 13, at the age of 61, in Hattiesburg, Miss., where he was recovering from heart surgery.

My first impression of Roberts was that he had a voice that commanded and that he was genuinely more passionate about helping someone else than he was in being noticed for helping someone else.

I heard that theme again and again in the week following his death, including by various speakers at his funeral service Thursday at First Baptist Church downtown.

Between phone calls from Roberts’ longtime partner Elise Carow and his cousin Kay Churchwell the day after his death, through the funeral and the folks I met there, it was astounding to see how many lives Roberts touched, and how deeply he touched them.

Arthur Cullen spoke at Thursday’s services, pacing nervously beforehand. Cullen has no real fear of public speaking, but he was worried that he wouldn’t do Roberts’ memory justice.

Cullen needn’t have worried, because he didn’t make a speech; he drew from the deep well of memories he had of Roberts and of memories shared by others. We laughed as Cullen shared some of Roberts’ humor, and heads nodded in unison as he talked about how hard Roberts worked to help others shape their futures.

He mentored students, bought an outfit for a student who couldn’t afford one for graduation, gave his time and his money. Most importantly, he gave himself — and a gift from Roberts wasn’t a hit-and-run; he hung around. He checked in and he called and he encouraged and he drove you to want to do the right thing.

My friendship with Roberts wasn’t nearly as deep as those who spoke Thursday, nor as longstanding as many of the people who attended his services. Yet I was seated in the second row because after his death, when they reviewed his final wishes, he had named me as an honorary pallbearer along with about a dozen other people, such as Lee Sullivan and Guy Tunnell and George Gainer and Allan Bense and Mike Jones.

I found that out Monday when Kay Churchwell called to tell me what they had found and to ask if I was willing to accept. I was dumbfounded and humbled, wondering what I was doing on that list.

I gave it some thought because nearly all my dealings with Roberts were either on the phone, work related, maybe him stopping by the office every now and then. More recently, I joined the Panama City Kiwanis, and we’d talk there.

What occurred to me is we really didn’t start talking about “life” matters until after I became a father. Those talks became personal, and he offered advice and encouragement.

He told me often he admired the job I was doing as a father. Initially I wondered, “Where’s the hook? When is he going to ask for something?”

The answer, as so many people found out about Roberts, is that there was no hook.

My best Roberts story is one that kind of epitomizes the Bobby Roberts so many people knew. I posted it on Facebook a couple of days after his death, and Cullen asked if he could reference it when he spoke at the funeral.

Almost exactly one year ago, I wrote a column about how I’d teased a neighbor about her euphonium practice, so I was going to put $50 toward her Bay High Band trip to a college bowl game.

Roberts showed up at my office the next day with a check for $250 for her trip, not because he knew her but because I did, and if I thought it was the right thing to do then he was sure it must be.

He only let our picture be taken so I could post it in hopes of encouraging others to give, and they did.

That was Bobby Roberts.

And his final gift to me, the absolute disbelief that he would name me to be a part of his funeral, was the understanding that what we do day in and day out really does matter, even when you don’t think anyone is watching.

Mike Cazalas is editor of The News Herald. Contact him at mmcazalas@pcnh.com or 850-747-5094.